Dreaming of Dollywood

This week our assignment was to write as an "unreliable narrator" the way Adam Haslett does in Notes to My Biographer. This is a very rough draft; definitely a work in progress. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it! (And in case you're curious, I did in fact join seniorepeoplemeet.com to make sure the questions were accurate)

The way I see it people got two main problems. First, they think all women should be married, and second, they’re idiots. That’s how I got into this whole mess. My niece surprised me by signing me up on seniorpeoplemeet.com and things just spiraled out of control. The little witch thought it was time for me to “start dating again.” What does she know?  Howie died twelve years ago and I’ve been just fine on my own thank you very much. Besides, all the old men in Winona Lake ever want to do is play shuffleboard or Euchre. Sure, I love a good Euchre game but playing with half-deaf, half-blind ninnies takes all the fun out of it.

For twelve years I’ve been managing the farm and the sawmill, renting some of the land to the neighbor boys and letting my nephews help out at the mill. Even Jane, the one who got me in all this trouble, helps out with payroll. She sees how good things are, how smoothly everything is running. She ought to have known better.

“Laverne, you have got to be careful!” Bernie shouted up at me.  Bernie worries too much for her own good. She grew up to be a church lady just like Mother. I know it just kills her that I ain’t been to church since her grandson’s baptism.  She prays for my soul just as much as she prays for her queer son’s soul. She’s always at those revival meetings down at the rec center, begging and pleading with the Lord that Simon and I will find our ways back to “the flock.”

I looked down my nose at her from the driver’s seat of the RV, “I’ve got two canisters of mace in my bag and I’m about to go pick up Elvis and Dolly. We’ll be fine. I’m not a nancy like that son of yours, I can take care of myself” I threw the RV into reverse and backed out of the lot.

Bernie’s mouth fell open and her eyes widened as I drove away. I lit a cigarette and laughed, the wind blowing on my face harder and harder the faster I drove. There’s nothing like country roads, the way they roll and curve. I pressed on the gas as I went up a particularly high hill and my rear actually left my seat as I went over.  The middle of the RV landed with a crash, though, and the damned thing skidded and veered out of control. I slammed the brakes just in time to stop from completely landing in a ditch.

After the car settled I shook my head. I’d banged into the steering wheel pretty bad. I looked up through the windshield into a field full of cows, eating grass and looking at me like I was crazy. They were cocky sonsofbitches and I glared right back at them until I felt my thigh sting and smelled something burning. My cigarette had fallen out of my mouth and burned a hole in my pants. Cursing, I stuck it back in my mouth and patted my pants and leg, trying to rub the pain out. Stupid RV. Stupid cows. Stupid hills. Stupid online dating site and the old men on it.

I sat back in my seat, after calling Bernie’s husband, George, and thought about those online profiles. Jane filled mine out for me and she was a bit mushy for my taste.

• A little bit about me: I like the outdoors. I’ve played in Bid Euchre tournaments and am looking for a new partner! My collies, Elvis and Dolly, keep good company but things can get lonely on my farm.
• What I’m looking for: A man who’s not afraid to hold his own and voice his opinion. Someone who will take long walks with me through the woods on my land. I’d like someone to make me laugh and cook me dinner sometimes.
• I’d just like to add: I’ve been widowed for 12 years. I loved my husband very much. We had 30 good years together and while I miss him, I’m ready to move on. I own a farm and a sawmill so you need to be able to work along side a strong, capable woman.

Bah! It didn’t sound like me at all! I’ve never said anything so flowery in my life! I would never have filled one of those profiles out for myself but if I did it would have sounded something like this:

• A little bit about me: I work hard. I love Dolly Parton and have traveled all over the US to see her concerts. I don’t have much use for God and spiritual mumbo-jumbo but Elvis Presley’s Gospel music is enough to make me believe in angels.
• What I’m looking for: A hard worker. Someone to smoke and drink a glass or two of whiskey with when the day is done. A straight talker.
• I’d just like to add: I’ve no need for a man who can’t take care of himself. I wasn’t put on this earth to cook and clean for another person.

When I told Jane what I thought it should say she shook her head like she pitied me or something and wouldn’t let me change a thing, wouldn’t even give me the password to log on. Instead, she went through all my mail and sent me the ones she thought were worth looking at. You would not have believed the jokers she started showing me. For a while I thought I’d prove her wrong and she’d let it be. But no, Bernie and her daughter both have the persistent gene and she kept right at it. Eventually it was me that gave in and agreed to e-mail a man named Miles back. I didn’t do it because I was interested in him; I did it to shut her up.

Problem was, he kept e-mailing me back. Turns out we both have a passion for Dolly Parton and Elvis Presley. We figured out that we’ve been to at least 5 of the same Dolly concerts; we even sat in the same section at one of them. Crazy as it sounds we started hitting it off. By the time I landed in the ditch it had been five months of e-mailing and talking on the phone. That man could make me laugh ‘til I thought my side would burst. I never got tired of talking to him. We told each other stupid stuff, like what our days were like and not so stupid stuff like our families and our first marriages.

And so I found myself in an RV George rented to me at a discounted rate, on my way to meet Miles in Dollywood. I’d been avoiding it on principle. Dollywood was for the fans who followed Dolly because she was famous. I had not use for it. But Miles loves Dollywood and wanted to share it with me. I put off replying when he first asked me to meet him there. He thought I was avoiding him because I was scared to meet in person. That had no part of it. I’m a grown-ass woman and have nothing to fear from a silly, sweet older man like Miles.

“I’m going with you and that’s the end of it, Laverne,” Bernie insisted, hands on her hips. “Simon and I will go. We’ll stay out of your way once we’re there but you can’t drive all the way to Tennessee by yourself, you just can’t.”

“I can and I will, Bernie,” We both had a stubborn streak and this was a fight to end all fights.

“You better listen to her, Laverne,” George sat at the kitchen table with his coffee. He didn’t look up from the paper he was reading. “She’s got her heels dug in deep this time.”

It was no use. Before I knew it, Bernie and Simon were packed and loaded into the RV. I sighed and threw my hands in the air. This complicated everything but there was no changing Bernie’s mind. I turned around to get in the driver’s seat and just like that, Jane was standing there in front of me, the biggest grin split her face like a clown.

“And just what do you want?” I demanded.

She held her hand out all innocent like, “The keys, please. I’ll drive for the first leg.”

I tried to peer into a rear window but couldn’t see anything. I’ll say this for George’s guys, they tint a window real good.

“Oh no, no, no,” I just shook my head.

“Aunt Laverne, can you put your cigarette out, please? You’re giving me a splitting headache,” Jane asked as she pulled onto the highway ramp.

“You go on and rest in the back and I’ll drive,” I grumbled. I knew I was acting the fool but I was so mad I could spit.

“Laverne, don’t you know second-hand smoke is just as dangerous as first-hand? You could give us all cancer just by smoking with us in the same car.”

“Serve you right,” was all I said. I rolled down my window and hung my hand outside, pulling it in to take a drag every so often.